


Find Me a Find

by green_grrl



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-31
Updated: 2007-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_grrl/pseuds/green_grrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a conspiracy.</p><p>AKA the matchmaking AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Team Romance in the **[DS Match](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_flashfiction/587009.html)** , prompt: "You had to tell me this at three in the morning?" Oodles of thanks to all of Team Romance for the brainstorming and handholding and cheerleading, and especially to [](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/profile)[**slidellra**](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/), [](http://kristiinthedark.livejournal.com/profile)[**kristiinthedark**](http://kristiinthedark.livejournal.com/) and [](http://jadelennox.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://jadelennox.livejournal.com/)**jadelennox** for betaing and concrit! No offense meant to the Iowa Cubs; the Hawkeyes just suited as the Cubs' farm team for fictional purposes. And I've fudged the timeline for the production of Mamma Mia! but if you want to attract Ray to the theatre ....

"Benny, I'm in love." Ray was wearing a smile that invited the whole world to share his happiness.

Ben had noticed as soon as he'd walked in that Ray seemed more relaxed than he had ... well since before his ill-fated undercover stint in Las Vegas and subsequent convalescence. On closer examination, Ben saw that Ray was glowing with an open radiance he hadn't seen since Special Agent Suzanne Chapin had returned to Washington.

"No, I know what you're thinking," Ray pressed on. "This one's not a criminal, not a Fed, not tied to gun-runners _or_ the Mob—and she lives right here in Chicago."

"Ray, of course I wouldn't dream of doubting—"

Ray continued, oblivious and dreamy-eyed. "She's smart, she's strong, she's tough, and Benny ... she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Ben sincerely hoped he wouldn't say exquisite.

"She's like an angel."

Ah. Ben scratched his eyebrow. "That's wonderful, Ray. Where did you meet her?"

Ray blinked at him. "Here, in the office. She just ... walked right in." He drifted off in happy contemplation.

Oh my. "Ray is that, I mean, well ... isn't there a conflict of interest?" His eyes automatically sought out the sign painted on the window, reading the reversed lettering on the glass: CASA DI AMORE Matchmaking Service Since 1948.

 

 

_"Benny, I am through with the scumbuckets and creeps," Ray said. "I am going into the business of love and happiness."_

_"That sounds like a lovely idea," Ben replied. "Er, what business, exactly, would that be?"_

_"Matchmaker. Ma's cousin's husband's aunt has a nice little storefront over on Western, but she's been wanting to retire for a while. I'm thinking that people falling in love and getting married, that sounds like a nice line to be in. With the payout for this," he nodded down at his bandaged torso, "plus my pension I can buy her out and have enough to keep me afloat."_

_Ben saw the shadows from Ray's experiences in Las Vegas lingering in his eyes, and agreed, "You have a very romantic soul, Ray. I have no doubt you'll be very successful as a matchmaker."_

_And indeed, a few months' experience as the new business owner proved that Ray's buoyant faith in love imbued his clients with the confidence to make relationships work._

 

 

"A conflict of interest? Oh, no, no." Ray waved away the concern. "She wasn't here for herself; she wanted to fix up her ex-husband."

"Her ... Isn't that a little unusual?"

Ray shrugged. "They're friends of the Lieu's. He worked with Kowalski way back, but the guy's a detective with the 19th now. Stella was in the 2-7 for a case the other day—she's with the State's Attorney's office—and got to talking with Welsh. I guess she's getting on with her life after the divorce but her ex is still calling her up, trying to get back together. So Welsh told her about my little business here, and in she came."

"Still, it seems highly irregular—"

"Yeah, I know. I know. I'm doing this one as a favor for the Lieu. And if it turns out that getting Kowalski happily hooked up gets him out of Stella's hair, well that's a bonus for me."

Ben frowned and fiddled with the brim of his hat.

Ray went dreamy-eyed again. "I told you she's a lawyer, right? All those brains in a gorgeous package—I'm tellin' ya, Benny, she's the one."

Oh, dear.

 

* * *

 

"I still don't see why you'll match up everybody else and not me."

Ray lifted his hands to the heavens. No matter how old Frannie got, she still had the same little sister whine she'd had since they were kids.

"Because there's only one person you want to get matched up with, and he's not on the market! Just because you read that Dawn O'Conner romance garbage—"

"He's single!" she shot back, but—thank you God—dropped the subject, and picked up a stack of files. Aside from constantly trying to get matched up with Fraser, she liked the business, and helped out whenever she wasn't down at the station. And Ray had to admit, she had pretty good ideas when it came to matching up everyone but herself.

"So what's this guy like?"

"According to Stella and Welsh, he's a good cop, a smart detective. Has a soft spot for people on the outs; goes the extra mile to get them justice. A little unorthodox sometimes, but he has three citations for bravery."

"Oh yeah? Is he good looking?"

"Hey!" Ray pointed the warning finger of big brotherhood at her. "He's _not_ like the Mountie. He's also stalking his ex, okay?"

Frannie threw up her hands. "Fine, fine. I get it. I'm never allowed to date anyone. I'll just go join the convent now."

"A vow of silence wouldn't be such a bad idea," Ray groused back.

Frannie rolled her eyes, then got back to business. "So, fine, this guy needs someone who's okay with being a cop's wife—long hours, danger. What's he like outside of the job?"

"Solid working class Polish family. He likes dancing, sports, animals, kids."

Frannie started going through the files, then stopped. "So here's the other thing. How do you fix up a guy who doesn't know he's being fixed up?"

Ray ran a hand down his face. "Yeah, that's a problem. I was actually thinking about your friend Rachel. I ran into her Ma again last week, and she's still trying to get me to match her up with someone."

"Oh, _I_ see. Why is it that Antoinetta Jackson couldn't hire you to fix up Rachel behind her back, but this Stella walks in, and you'll marry off her ex for her?"

Ray grimaced. "It's a favor. Unofficial. And maybe we get lucky and Kowalski and Rachel hit it off, and everybody's happy."

Frannie thought about it, and shrugged. "Maybe. But you still gotta find an excuse for them to get together."

"Lieutenant Welsh actually came up with a pretty good idea. It'll just take getting Rachel there."

"And how do you expect to do that?"

"Well, she's your friend. She'll go out somewhere with you."

Frannie's eyes went wide. "Oh, no. You're not making me go on her blind date."

"C'mon! What's it gonna hurt? Just a couple of people hanging out. They'll like each other or they won't. If they don't, Rachel had a day out with her girlfriend. No harm."

Frannie folded her arms across her chest. "On one condition."

"Oh, no. Uh uh."

"Yes, or I won't go." Aw, crap. Frannie had on her stubborn-like-a-mule expression.

"C'mon Frannie, please?" God, how did she reduce him to pleading, every time? "All right! All right! Fine." And she was always so smug about it, too, damn it.

 

* * *

 

Ray kicked back in the stadium seat, his feet on the back of the seat in front of him, and twirled the toothpick in his mouth. He hadn't been to a ball game in years, but Harding Welsh had called him up out of the blue with a free ticket; Welsh's brother was buddies with the owner of the Cubs' farm team, or something. He'd been planning on going with some friends from work, but couldn't get away, and offered Ray his seat.

It was only a triple-A exhibition game for charity, a post-season visit to the big city to play the Cardinals' farm team, but a game at Wrigley was still a game at Wrigley. He could cheer the Hawkeyes and boo the Bats, no problem.

Ray wasn't getting along so hot with his captain these days, so it had been kind of nice to drop by the 2-7 for the ticket and see Welsh, meet the civilian aide who was coming today. Reminded Ray there'd been a time he'd loved his job, liked the people he worked with.

There was a bustle of activity to his left, and he stood when he saw the girl he'd met a few days ago coming down the row, with another pretty, dark-haired girl ahead of her and a tall, good-looking man behind.

"Francesca. Hi." He ditched the toothpick and stuck out his hand.

"Hi, Ray." She reached around to take his hand briefly before nudging her companion closer. "This is my friend Rachel. Rachel Jackson. Detective Ray Kowalski." Frannie fiddled with tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Nice to meetcha, Rachel." Ray shook her hand, then waited expectantly.

"Oh! Oh, and this is Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." She laid her hands on the guy's arm.

"Pleased to meet you, Ray." The guy reached politely around the ladies to shake his hand with a friendly smile. Wow, guy looked like something out of a catalog or something, but seemed nice enough.

"Canadian, huh? Well, I guess I can overlook when the Canadians won the World Series."

"Twice," replied Mr. Mountie with just a tiny glint in his eye, and that was cool, Ray liked that real deadpan humor.

"So, Benton Fraser, what do you like to go by?"

"Ben, Benton, Fraser, whichever you prefer, really."

Suddenly Ray noticed Francesca was looking a little put out and realized it was maybe kinda rude to be talking over the girls' heads like that. He waved towards their seats and they all sat down.

"Owner box, third row! I've never had seats in Wrigley like this," said Rachel. She'd ended up next to him while Francesca cuddled up to Ben.

"Yeah, right on third base, the hot corner." Ray gave a little punch in the air for emphasis. Welsh's brother had really set them up nice. "So, you like baseball?"

"Oh, yeah. I go to every Cubs game I can."

"Cool. I used to go to Cubs games with my Dad, worked out with them for a while when I was older."

"Really? Did you ever go to spring training? I go to Arizona every chance I get for the pre-season."

"Nah, never made it to Arizona. My folks were living down there until recently; I guess I shoulda taken advantage when they were there." Too bad his Mom had insisted he sounded miserable on the phone, and had packed up his Dad and moved them back to Chicago.

"Oh, it's the best for a fan. The stadiums are smaller, and you're practically right on the field with the players." Huh. She was really into it, and it did sound kinda fun. "It's how I know spring is really here; it's like when my year really starts."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ray caught Ben jumping in his seat, startled. It looked like Francesca was elbowing him and grinning. Weird.

"For me," Ray said, "spring is when baseball starts and hockey ends. Then when baseball's ending, the hockey season starts. Perfect timing."

"Hockey!" Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Ew. A bunch of thugs. Plus they're all padded and covered up. Baseball players, you can see how cute their butts are." Rachel nudged Francesca.

"On the contrary," Ben spoke up. "Hockey is a sport of considerable speed, grace and skill."

Yeah, he had a Canadian on his side. "Exactly." Ray pointed at Ben in agreement.

"My brother's a big basketball fan," Francesca interrupted, probably trying to head off an argument.

Ben and Ray's eyes met, and they both shrugged. "I certainly enjoy the opportunity to shoot a few hoops or take in a youth game, but I have to admit I'm not a big fan of the NBA," Ben said.

"I'm with ya there—I'll always go for a pick-up game. But to watch? Well, college ball's all right."

"Curling!" offered Ben.

Ray looked at him blankly. The girls looked confused, too. "Sorry, buddy, you lost me there," Ray admitted. "Boxing."

"Oh yes!" responded Ben. "A pugilistic display takes the nature of sport down to its very essence. A literal demonstration of _mano a mano_."

Rachel gave a full-body shudder this time. "It's barbaric."

Ray sighed. "Yeah, that's what my wife used to say."

"Your wife?" asked Rachel.

"Ex," he explained tightly. And wow, he'd managed to not think about his divorce for half an hour, but now his mood was turning gray and cold, even though it was actually a pretty warm, sunny day for October. He could see he was even bumming out Francesca and Ben. Fortunately he didn't have to keep up with conversation; the starting lineups were being introduced.

It got easier, though, when he could focus on the game. Rachel was obviously a fan; Ben, too. Francesca didn't seem to know much about the rules, but she sure was enthusiastic. Hearing her shout things like "Throw it to the shortgap!" was its own kind of entertainment.

Ray and Ben got hot dogs and peanuts for the group, and Ray decided to keep his beer intake down. For once he was having a good enough time to want to remember it, unlike the usual seven lonely days a week he just wanted to blot out.

The second time the girls got up for a bathroom run together, Ray motioned Ben to move to the seat next to him. "So, you really like boxing? 'Cause I do some training with some kids. They're gang members—it might not be your thing—but I'm trying to give them something positive to do, you know?" He did a little bob and weave.

"That's very commendable, Ray. I would very much like to see your program. I'm a great believer in outlets for disadvantaged youth."

"Really? Uh, that would be great, greatness."

"And, Ray, now that the hockey season has started, well, I have a friend who has friends ... I can get tickets to the Blackhawks, if you'd like to go."

"Seriously? I would love that! Hey," Ray gave him the cop stare. "You're not mixed up with scalpers are you?" Ben was just starting a horrified gape when Ray laughed and bumped his shoulder. "Nah, I'm just yankin' your chain."

Ben grinned. "Well, if you object to whatever nefarious means I use to obtain tickets to a professional game, I also know of a pond quite suited for playing, when it gets cold enough. That is, if you skate."

"Huh, it's been a few years, but I'd like that. It'll be another month or two, though."

"True. Fortunately boxing is more accessible year-round. When is the next match? I'll ensure my schedule is free."

"We got one coming up—" Ray saw Francesca and Rachel coming down their row. Francesca was giving them a weird look, like maybe ... disappointment?

"So what're you guys talking about?" she asked.

Ben snapped around, all posture and square angles. "Ray was just inviting me to a boxing match."

Rachel squinched up her face again. "Hey Frannie, let's go down to the rail. I want a better view of Constantino. I hope he gets called up!" It was pretty obvious it wasn't the kid's batting average she was interested in.

"Bubba Dean's not so bad either," Francesca replied, doing a little head toss as she turned away from Ben.

The girls shuffled back to the steps and down to the railing, where they could get a closer look at the field. Ray glanced at Ben, who had relaxed again.

"Uniforms seem to have an effect on women." There was something very wry about the way Ben said that.

"That's male objectivism, is what that is."

"Objectification. Yes, indeed. Fairly harmless in the casual sense, but more difficult to deal with when an individual's outer appearance is given more importance than a person's inner dreams, goals and character."

Ray figured there was a story or two behind that. "So, are you and Francesca ...?"

"Oh, no, we're not ..." Ben pulled at his T shirt collar, looking a little flustered. "We're friends. Colleagues."

Ray eyed him closely. "And she's hopin' for more."

"She _is_ most persistent." Ben was getting all tense again.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure a good-looking guy like you probably gets a lot of attention, in the objectification sense."

Ben scratched his eyebrow. He was full of tics when he got uncomfortable. "No more so than you, I'm sure, Ray."

Really? "Do you think I'm attractive?"

"I'm not really qua— well, yes Ray, I do."

Huh. Ray hadn't cared what anybody thought about his looks in ages. You know, kick 'em in the head if they didn't like him. He'd been Stella's pick since they were kids, and nobody else mattered. He hadn't really thought about the fact that since she'd taken herself out of the picture, he'd have to think about maybe impressing somebody else someday. And here was this complete stranger—talked kinda like a schoolteacher, but a cool guy and definitely a star in the looks department—saying that he, Ray Kowalski, was okay. Well, all right.

"Sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. Just, since the divorce ..."

"It's quite all right Ray. My pleasure."

And you could see it really was a pleasure. Guy was maybe a little freakish, but a good guy. A sunny day at Wrigley, a ball game, good company—Ray was almost remembering what happy felt like. It was ... nice.

They watched the rest of the game, chatting, shouting at the field, and keeping half an eye on the girls, making sure they were okay. Better than okay, they seemed to be having the time of their lives, hanging over the railing, ogling the players.

When they game ended, Francesca and Rachel were still huddled together, thick as thieves, probably saying things about the players that Ray did _not_ want to know about, thank you very much. Most of the fans had emptied out, so Ray and Ben stood at the end of their row, waiting for the girls.

"Oh, Frase!" Francesca looked up. "Uh, we can drop you back—"

Ray interrupted, "Hey, I can take you. Wherever it is you need to go."

"Oh, that's very kind of you Ray. Much appreciated. But please," he told the girls, "may we escort you to your car?"

Of course their car was parked about three miles away from Ray's, but he was getting the idea Ben had been raised by someone even stricter than his own Mom about manners. But he could do the polite thing, shake hands, say what a pleasure it was.

But it was even nicer when he and Ben got to the Goat, and Ben admired her for real, not just the polite gentleman act.

Ray ran a hand over her roof. "Me and my Dad worked on her, rebuilt her engine ... This is six coats of paint."

"She really is a fine automobile. I'm sorry to say my father wasn't able to teach me anything about cars, though I do know my way around a dogsled team."

"You're kidding me."

"I assure you, I'm quite serious."

Wow. Crazy Canadians. "So where's your Dad now?"

Ben gave a strange little look over his shoulder, but turned back. "Well, I ... That's odd." He rubbed his eyebrow. "Usually that's one of the first things people learn about me. I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killers."

"Oh, man. Your Dad got whacked?"

"Indeed. And it was Francesca's brother— Would you like to go and get something to eat? It's a bit of a story."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

And so Ray heard all about how Ray Vecchio and Ben busted the crooked Mountie, and Ben got stuck at the Chicago Consulate 'cause nobody wanted him back, and he got to do real policework with Vecchio and Welsh at the 2-7 on the side, but that ever since Vecchio had gone undercover for the Feds and then pensioned off after getting shot, it had been mostly sentry duty and paperwork. Which Ray figured had to be a special kind of hell, even though Ben kept saying the filing of forms was an important duty for the proper functioning of the government. Right. It just wasn't the same as running down a perp and throwing him in the cage— _that_ was job satisfaction, and Ray could tell Ben agreed, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

Ray shared a few case stories of his own, all from a few years ago. The whole Stella thing had sucked the satisfaction out of everything for a while, but he wasn't going to talk about that tonight. He was actually having a good time, and it was hard to see it end when it was time to take Ben back to the Consulate.

Ray lay awake for a while that night just enjoying the memory of the day. He'd hung out with someone who shared the same interests. Was a cop, even if he was a Canadian one. A decent guy, too, not some jerk. Someone who actually liked him for _him_ ; and between his parents and Stella and whoever he'd had to be on undercover jobs, Ray had kind of forgotten who he was. He hadn't really thought about it that way before. Yeah, Stella was a part of him, part of his identity, but so was boxing and busting dirtballs and working his retro-thrift style. Sure, when she took off she left a gaping hole in his life, but maybe it wasn't completely empty after all.

 

* * *

 

The boxing match, Ray got. The hockey game, he got. Walking the wolf-dog—who by the way was damn friendly with his tongue—he got. This, he did not get.

"Ben, I got eight hours where I gotta do nothing but take down license plates." And good thing he'd asked that "attractive" question when he wasn't wearing his glasses, which did _not_ do him any favors in the looks department, if you asked him.

"It's no trouble at all, Ray. It's just as easy to spend time in your company on a stakeout as in front of a televised hockey game. And believe me, I'm quite inured to the boring aspects of police work."

"Huh. Well, I guess even this is better than doing a statue impression."

"Right you are."

Still it felt good, Ben wanting to spend time with _him_ , even when last-minute duty got in the way of their plans. Damn collectible stamp thieves, setting up meets with potential buyers at some freaky UFO-theme diner.

Diefenbaker leaned forward from the back seat and licked his ear, and Ray hid his grin in the shrug to escape the wolf. He was going to have a wet ear and dog hair in the back seat and a head full of weird Eskimo stories by the end of the night—and it was about fourteen thousand times better than going it alone.

 

 

It turned out he ended up with a head full of weird UFO stories from a case Ben and his old partner had been on, plus the entertainment of making Ben say "philatelist" ten times fast. And it was about a hundred thousand times better than going it alone.

 

* * *

 

Ray whipped open the office door, apparently cutting off a lunge by his sister for it. "Benny, thanks for coming in. I think I got another prospect for Kowalski. Here, siddown."

"Ray, Ray seemed fairly uninterested in pursuing Ms. Jackson's company. I'm not sure he's ready—"

"Whoa. That's mostly 'cause she didn't like the boxing and hockey thing, right? I already checked this one out. It's not a problem. She's more interested in meeting a good guy, fast, and she's easy-going on the details. She's also okay with doing a casual meet-up first, to see how they get along, instead of a date, so I was hoping you could do like before ..."

Francesca was beaming hopefully at him. Ben eased the crick in his neck and hedged. "Well, I know nothing about the young lady. What is she like?"

"Her name's Dolley. She's an artist. She's pretty. She's looking for a nice guy. Anything else you need to know?"

Ben capitulated. "Well, I _do_ have passes to the traveling exhibit at the Art Institute, Hoofed Megafauna above the 49th: Ungulates in Oils. I was planning to invite Ray, as he'd mentioned an appreciation for painting. I suppose it could be a group outing."

"See, that's the spirit, Benny! I knew I could count on you."

"It'll be wonderful, Frase." Francesca leaned forward eagerly.

Ben leaned back. "Yes, well, I'll let you know the details." He jumped from his chair and fled.

 

* * *

 

Ms. Madison _was_ pretty. And personable, and articulate on the topic of art. Ray seemed to accept her inclusion in their trip just fine, so perhaps Ben had been worried over nothing.

Ray had come up with the suggestion for a pre-museum lunch. "This place is small, but the pies are great."

The pizzeria _was_ small, and Ray directed them to grab the last open table while he ordered at the counter. While they waited for their order, Ben entertained them with a brief overview of the place of caribou and moose portraiture in Canadian art history.

When the pizza arrived at their table, Ben was at first focused on the delightful aroma, and smiled his approval to Ray. So he didn't notice Dolley's distressed response until the rather pronounced undulation of her torso caught his attention. Unfortunately, by the time he took in her pale, unhappy face, she was already regurgitating on their table.

"Oh, dear!" Ben leaped up to grab some napkins while Ray scooted quickly back, then came around behind Dolley to ask, "Hey, you okay?" He sounded upset, but was in fact wearing a wide smile.

Ben was shocked. "Ray, I ... well ... this isn't really amusing. This poor woman is ill."

"No, this is something I saw on TV," Ray gritted through his teeth, lips still pulled up tight. "As long as you're grinning, you can't upchuck."

"Oh, that seems a very useful trick." Ben pulled the corners of his mouth up. "Ah. Interesting," he decided.

The rest of the diners, including Francesca, were a sea of suffering, wincing away from the inescapable smell of vomitus and trying to keep their own stomachs.

Ray and Ben, grins frozen on their faces, glided between the tables, escorting the miserable ladies to the exit.

 

* * *

 

"C'mon, Benny, who puts pineapple on a pizza? That's disgusting! No wonder she puked."

"Ray, the young lady later confessed she's three months pregnant with another man's baby."

"Ah, crap. I'll have to have a little talk with her about full disclosure when she's looking to get fixed up." Ray rubbed his face and sighed.

 

* * *

 

Ben ended up taking Ray to the exhibit later, just the two of them, and that was pretty cool. Well, the whole painting giant deer thing was kind of nuts, but Ben told a lot of stories about growing up in Canada, pointing out places he knew in the paintings. It looked pretty—like a nice, clean place to go. When Ray said so, Ben offered to show him some time, and Ray hadn't meant to be hinting for an invitation or anything, but Ben looked like he was happy to offer, and, yeah. That'd be real nice, one of these days. Course one of these days he'd have to show Ben the benefits of a vacation on a warm, sunny beach, too.

 

* * *

 

"No, what I'm saying is sometimes a perp needs the threat of a good head-kicking to get him to spill."

"But Ray, surely criminals are well aware of the proscriptions against police brutality. If you threaten them, they'll know they're safe from actual harm. Unless, of course, they do suffer actual harm, in which case their charges will be dismissed."

"Ben, if they can remember actual law, if they're even thinking of _anything_ except the fact they just pissed their pants, you're not doing it right. You gotta ... Mm!" Ray lunged for emphasis, "get right in their face." Ray was dancing along the sidewalk beside him, making broad gestures in illustration.

"I don't know, Ray. I'm not sure the Queen would approve of such—"

"The Queen? The Queen?" Ray added more height to the hops in his sideways stride. "Ooo, Canadians!" Ray screwed up his face and balled his fists in frustration, and Ben smiled inwardly. "I'd like to see the Queen interrogate some dirtbag that's been slipping roofies to girls. I'll bet ten minutes in she'd be whackin' him with her handbag." He mimed it in midair.

Ben loved Ray's exuberance, watching him express himself so passionately. He was well aware Ray knew where the line was on police brutality; he wouldn't be on the streets, much less held in such esteem by Lieutenant Welsh, otherwise. No, he had to admit to baiting his friend in order to spark some of their more colorful exchanges. He was also well aware Ray was on to him and played along.

"Ray, the Queen would never resort to—"

"Help! Thief!"

Ben turned immediately towards the cry, and saw Ray out of the corner of his eye do the same. A shopkeeper was standing in her doorway and pointing up the street towards a runner. He and Ray took off as one, racing up the street after the suspect. When they got within half a block, Ray yelled, "Chicago PD. Stop!" but it had no effect. The suspect ducked into an alleyway in the block ahead of them, and Ray peeled off. He glanced back and brushed a thumb along his nose, and Ben brushed his nose back. Understood—Ray would be at the other end of the alley.

Ben redoubled his speed.

By the time he turned the corner, their quarry was halfway through. Before he made it out, though, Ray came speeding around the corner at the far end, long legs pumping and coat flying open. "Police, asshole!" The runner windmilled to a stop and stuttered backwards a few steps before turning around. Trapped between Ben and Ray, he hesitated for a second, but then kept going. It was short work on Ben's part to take him down.

Ben looked up, just for a moment, to see Ray barreling up in full cop mode. It was exhilarating to be working on the street again, if only by chance. Suddenly the ground heaved under him. He heard a scuffle, and, "Do _not_ move, jackass, or there's not going to be pieces left to lock up. You hear me?" And then Ben didn't hear anything at all until, "Ben! Ben! Can you open your eyes?" He saw a hand coming down. He knew that hand—distinctively curved thumbs, long fingers. Safe. His eyes slid closed, and he felt the hand brush against his cheek and pat. "Hey, do _not_ pass out on me again, Ben! Do _not_!" He opened his eyes again. This time he saw Ray's face looking anxiously down on him. "You with me? You here? Dispatch has a car coming, and an ambulance."

Ben smiled. "I'm fine ... I will be fine," he corrected. He did have quite a headache.

His father peered down at him over Ray's shoulder. "The Yank's right, son. Sometimes it takes a threat of violence with some offenders." If Ben could get away with closing his eyes again, he would, but Ray looked too worried about him still. "Very effective technique when done properly. The Yank's quite good at it, very impressive work." Ben would have rolled his eyes if he could be sure it wouldn't make his headache worse.

Fortunately they were interrupted by the arrival of the uniformed officers and the EMTs. Ray arranged for his perp to be cuffed, Mirandaed and taken in as quickly as possible, then insisted on riding in to the emergency room with Ben.

He hovered throughout the doctor's examination. "He had the perp down, but then the guy flipped him and slammed his head on the street. He was unconscious for, like, a minute, but he woke up okay."

"One minute, you think? All right, thank you, detective. Pupils are responsive and it doesn't look like there's any lasting impact other than that goose egg, which will be pretty tender for a while. Still, constable, you shouldn't be alone tonight, in case you develop any symptoms of a more serious head injury."

"You're staying at my place," Ray insisted before Ben could speak. "No arguments."

Ben snapped his mouth shut, though it was tempting to see if he could goad Ray into threatening to kick him in the head if he didn't comply. Unfortunately he didn't think the doctor would see the humor. Instead he just relaxed and waited for discharge, Ray's hand a comforting anchor on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

"Casa di Amore, Francesca speaking." Frannie glanced at the clock. Figures her lunkhead brother would take off at five and she'd still be there working.

"I ought to call the Better Business Bureau on you!"

"Mary? Is that you?"

"Don't you 'Mary' me! What on earth were you thinking?"

"Uh, Ms. Lincoln? Did your meeting with Ray not go well?" Frannie winced in anticipation.

"Not go well? _Not go well?_ " Frannie flinched harder and pulled the phone away. "What is the point in sending me out to meet a _gay_ man? A gay man _with his boyfriend standing over his shoulder the whole time_? I am looking for a _husband_ here, not someone to do my hair with!"

Frannie gaped at the phone a moment. "Ms. Lincoln, there's some sort of misunderstanding. Ray's not, uh ... And his friend, they're just _friends_. I mean, I know Fraser. He's not light in the loaf pan."

"Light in the ...? Good lord, you people are incompetent! I know full well when someone is sending me 'back off my man' vibes. I wasn't expect them _tonight_ from the _man_ accompanying my _date_ , but he practically drilled holes in my skull with his eyes!"

"I ... I'm sorry. I'll see what—"

"Never mind! Consider yourselves _fired_."

Frannie set the phone carefully back on the cradle, her ears still ringing from the hang up. What the ...? Ray and Ben _did_ spend a lot of time together ... Frannie chewed on her lower lip. No, the woman just had to be nuts, that was it. She wrote "Whacko" on a Post-it note, but hesitated before sticking it on the file. She should probably try to find out what happened.

 

* * *

 

Ben paced his small office-cum-bedroom, still agitated. What a singularly unpleasant human being that woman had been! Ben tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, lord knows, but that Mary Lincoln was outrageous.

From the moment she met Ray, she had worked questions into her conversation designed to elicit personal information of a particular nature: What kind of salary did a detective make? How long had he been on the job? Benefits? Was there hazard pay? What kind of car did he drive? What neighborhood did he live in? Did he pay alimony?

The first questions Ray had answered, asking whether she was interested in working for the department, and Ben thought maybe he had misunderstood her intentions. But as time went on, Ben's admittedly uncharitable initial reaction towards her had proved correct. Ray became increasingly confused by and uneasy with the questions, and Ben became incensed.

When Ms. Lincoln moved closer and rested her perfectly manicured nails against Ray's sleeve, Ben gave her a warning glare with the full force of his strength behind it. She gave him a long, measured look back, then an angry grimace as she withdrew her hand.

Ben knew she couldn't possibly have represented her true intent to Ray Vecchio when she'd applied to the agency; Ray would never tolerate that sort of client. Ben shuddered. He didn't think she was the sort of gold digger he'd read about in police cases who would go so far as to murder a husband; Ray wasn't nearly wealthy enough to merit that kind of attention. Still, her interest was single-mindedly material and her manners appalling. Fortunately he had successfully driven her off and knew Ray was safe at home, but he still felt guilty about his participation in the matchmaking conspiracy.

The ring of the phone interrupted his thoughts.

"Frase?"

"Francesca, are you all right?" He was immediately concerned by her faltering tone.

"Um, that Mary Lincoln. She was just crazy, right?"

Oh dear, another victim of that harpy. Ben replied firmly, "Mary Lincoln is not fit for civilized company. I dread that she is at large, seeking a husband; I wouldn't wish her on my worst enemy."

"Really?" Francesca perked up a little. " 'Cause she fired us."

"Count yourself lucky, Francesca. She's unmatchable, or she should be."

"Oh, okay, good. Thanks, Frase." Francesca sounded deeply relieved, and he hung up the phone, glad that he'd been able to ease her mind.

He had a one-on-one hockey scrimmage planned with Ray for the next day, and good vigorous sport with his friend would drive the rest of his foul mood away.

 

* * *

 

The blonde woman talking to Lieutenant Welsh outside Casa di Amore could only be Stella Kowalski. Ben understood that a couple who met so young could drift apart, but he was afraid he'd have very little in common with someone who didn't value the many appealing aspects of her ex-husband. Nevertheless, he would be polite, for the sake of both his friends Ray.

Diefenbaker, who'd become quite protective of Ray Kowalski, was fortunately more interested in the terrier with the couple inside talking to the Vecchios.

Lieutenant Welsh did the honors. "Ms. Kowalski, meet Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Constable Fraser, it's good to meet you." She gave him a firm, brisk handshake. "That was great work you did, apprehending Randal Bolt—twice."

"Ah. Thank you." Ben often forgot he had a small bit of notoriety in the Chicago justice system.

He caught sight of Ray through the glass door, waving them in, and the couple rising from their seats. "Please, shall we?" he said, holding the door open.

"Guys, meet Manny and Maureen, my latest success story. They're on their way to order the wedding invitations at this very moment." Ray and Francesca were both beaming proudly, and Ben added his congratulations to the chorus.

"Come on, Mo, let's let these nice people have their meeting. We have a wedding to plan." Maureen happily took her fiancé's arm, and if Ben wasn't mistaken, the stationers would not be their first destination. "Jack!" she called back for her dog, who reluctantly left his sniff-fest with Diefenbaker.

Now that they had the shop to themselves, Ben couldn't help but notice Ray taking in Stella appreciatively—and that the attention was returned. Ms. Kowalski seemed to have an eye for the suit Ray was wearing, and Ben had to admit that if she admired sartorial elegance, perhaps his first friend Ray was a better match for her than his second.

"All right then." Ray rubbed his hands together. "Time for an update on the Kowalski case. Benny, what happened with Abigail?"

Ben sighed. "I'm afraid the meeting with Ms. Adams was over nearly as soon as it began. I had just introduced them, and Ray volunteered to bring her a glass of something. She requested red wine. The reception was quite crowded, and, well, as he was handing her the glass, someone knocked into him quite forcefully from behind, and the wine ended up on her dress. Ray was able to secure napkins quickly from a passing waiter and made an initial attempt to blot the stain before realizing that the location of the stain made it inappropriate for him to do so, and he left the napkins to her." The Lieutenant and Ray winced in appreciation of the awkwardness. "Unfortunately, Ms. Adams was convinced that the entire mishap was an intentional effort on Ray's part to 'grope' her, which she proclaimed loudly and insistently to all in the immediate area. I could not convince her that I had seen that it was truly an accident, and I'm afraid both parties left, angry and upset, in opposite directions."

"Oh, dear," sighed Francesca.

"Precisely," Ben agreed. "Ms. Kowalski, I assure you, Ray had no—"

She held up her hand. "No, it's okay, I know Ray isn't that kind of dog. Uh, no offense," she added, when Dief growled quietly at her. "I just hope there's another candidate that maybe he won't screw up with right away."

Ben stiffened. The failure of the first four attempts was not in any way a "screw up" on Ray's part, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from pointing it out, as he would not be at all in control of his tone if he did so.

"Fortunately I think I do have someone else," Ray replied. He opened a folder on his desk. "Martha was divorced three years ago. She's a paramedic. She likes sports, Chinese food and cars."

Stella and Lieutenant Welsh nodded appreciatively.

"Okay," continued Ray, "what plan can we come up with to get them together?" Ben winced inwardly. His days of offering consulate receptions for these ... these _schemes_ were decidedly over.

Francesca suggested, "Harding, maybe you can invite Ray to a party at the 2-7, and she can come."

The Lieutenant tapped his lip as he pondered the idea. "Maybe ..."

"We can say it's my birthday, or something."

"But Francesca, it's nowhere near your birthday," protested Ben. He pulled at his collar, surprised to find a sweater under his fingers, not his uniform. Why, then, was it so difficult to breathe? This whole situation was ... was ...

"I know, Frase. It's just to trick him to come to the party."

... intolerable.

"I'm sorry," Ben burst out. "I simply can't continue to be a party to this subterfuge. I apologize for throwing a wrench in the works, so to speak, but I can safely say that Ray is simply not interested in pursuing any woman romantically at this juncture, and to continue in these attempts to force him to do so would only be a disservice to him and to the young ladies in question. Ms. Kowalski," he turned to Stella. "If you wish your ex-husband to cease following you, then rest assured I will be more than happy to take him off your hands myself."

Four pairs of eyes stared at him. Four jaws dropped.

"Constable, I didn't realize ..." the Lieutenant began, at the same time Stella started to say, "But, but Ray's not ..." while Ray blustered, "No way, Benny! What the hell—!" Frannie just looked a little wobbly around the lower lip.

Ben leapt to his feet and cut them off. "Honestly, this whole situation came about to give Ray something better to do with his free time than to pine after Ms. Kowalski. I flatter myself that that is now the case, and if I've found some measure of companionship as well, then it's all to the better. I dearly hope that you will agree that Ray's contentment is a worthy outcome, even if he's not fulfilling the master plan you all took it upon yourselves to design for him. Good evening."

Desperate to escape the stifling atmosphere, he swept out the front door, Dief in his wake, leaving the conspirators gaping after him in shock.

"Honestly," he confided to Dief as they walked towards the Consulate, "why are they so insistent that Ray get romantically involved? What's wrong with being single and having friends?"

Dief stopped short on the sidewalk and sat, forcing Ben to stop and look back at him. "What?"

Dief cocked his head in disbelief and barked.

"'I've smelled you?' What on earth does that mean? Really, I think you're becoming unhinged."

Dief just shook his head and started trotting up the sidewalk again.

 

* * *

 

Ray entered the Consulate, worried but hopeful.

Benny looked up from the front desk, surprised. "Welcome to Canada, Ray."

Ray fidgeted a little. "About the other night ... look, I'm sorry I overreacted about you and Kowalski. You just caught me by surprise, you know?"

Benny rubbed his eyebrow. "I understand that you have become close to Stella, and that you have a certain image of Ray colored by her perspective. I hope you can trust my judgment when I say that Ray and I are, as you might say, _simpatico_. Despite the differences in our backgrounds we have a certain rapport, and I find him an engaging companion, admirable in numerous respects."

Oh, jeez. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Benny. I do not need to know all of what you ... admire. As long as you're happy, okay?"

"Yes, Ray," Fraser replied simply.

"All right. We good?"

Fraser's smile finally looked relaxed and genuine. "Of course, Ray."

"Good. I gotta get outta here." He jerked his thumb back towards the door. "Got some lonely hearts need fixing up."

"Very well, Ray. I ... thank you for coming by."

Ray jogged down the front steps of the Consulate, then realized the wolf had slipped out behind him. "Hey, buddy, what the hell was that? 'Rapport'? 'Admirable'? Jeez, and I thought the Mountie was hopeless with _women_."

Dief barked in commiseration and Ray shrugged. "What the hell, as long as it works for Kowalski. I guess guys don't need all the mushy talk."

Dief barked again and Ray narrowed his eyes at him. "You don't care; you're just going along with me to hit me up for junk food, aren't you?"

Dief sat with his tongue lolling. Shameless, just like Benny always said. Ray shook his head. "Don't tell," he instructed the wolf, as he dug a powerbar out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it. Dief sniffed it curiously. Ray sighed. "Yeah, Stella's trying to get me to eat healthy. But it beats pemmican, I'll tell you that much." Dief snapped it up. "Yeah, I thought so."

 

* * *

 

Ray had just let Ben and Dief in the front door when the phone rang, so Ray jogged back to the kitchen.

"Stanley?"

"Mom. Hey, what's up?"

"Oh, good. I was hoping to catch you before you went in to work."

"Actually, I worked the weekend, so I have a couple of days off. S'okay, though, I'm up early anyways." He held up the kettle and a mug to Ben and made a questioning face. Ben nodded yes, so Ray put the kettle on the stove and rooted around for a teabag, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. "So what's going on."

"Well ... I talked to Stella the other day."

"Uh huh." Nothing new about that.

"And she told me about your new ... friend."

"My new ... You mean Ben? How the hell does Stella know about Ben?" Of course Mr. Bat Ears looked up when he heard his name.

"Oh, I ... I think maybe through Lieutenant Welsh?"

"Oh yeah, Welsh, okay. That makes sense. So what about him?"

"Well, I just ... I wanted to have you and your ... Ben over for dinner. It's okay, your father is okay with it, too."

Jeez, his Mom was acting weird. "Uh, sure, Mom. Fine." He dropped the mouthpiece under his chin. "Hey Ben, how do you feel about the food groups of sausage and cabbage, within the general theme of all you can eat?"

Dief gave an excited bark before Ben could finish saying, "That sounds lovely, Ray."

Ray swung the bottom of the phone back up. "You up for feeding a shameless mutt, too?"

"Oh, he ... Ben's there?" His Mom sounded a little out of breath or something.

"Yeah." He poured hot water over the teabag. "He says dinner's good. Hey, are you okay?"

"I told you, honey, it's fine. I'm fine. We'll expect both you boys, and the dog, here Friday at seven."

"Okay, sure. Sounds great." He hung up the phone and stared at it. "Okay, that was weird." He shook the cricks out of his neck.

Ben hemmed. "I may have neglected to mention that Lieutenant Welsh introduced me to your ex-wife a few days ago. Thank you kindly," he added, as he took the mug.

"So you met the Stella, huh? Whadja think?"

"Uh, she's a very attractive woman." Ben sort of stalled out after that. But then he was always a little more uptight in the big red suit—Ray was glad he'd gotten to know him in civvies. Ray had a feeling Ben was wrestling with one of those _if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all_ things. He could see Stella not being Ben's kind of person.

"S'okay, you don't have to answer."

Ben looked relieved. "Honestly, Ray, it was a very short encounter."

"No big deal. Hey, you got the wolf chow in the bag there?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you so much for looking after him while I'm on this diplomatic detail. I should be able to pick him up tomorrow evening."

"No problemo. We're going to have us a good old time, aren't we?" Dief danced up on his hind legs and barked excitedly. "Yeah, buddy!"

"Please, just try to keep the junk food to a minimum. His digestive disturbances can be profound."

"No wolf puking on the rugs. Check." A couple of bites of pizza wouldn't hurt him.

 

* * *

 

The message light was blinking when Ray got home, so he pulled off his gloves, punched the play button, then started unbuttoning his coat.

"Stanley!" He and Ben had just left Skokie an hour ago, and his Mom had called already? He didn't know how she'd survived being in Arizona so long.

"I just wanted to tell you again how much we enjoyed meeting your boyfriend." He blinked and shook his head, pulling his arms out of his coat sleeves. Mom was terrible at keeping up with slang; she must think it was like calling girl friends, girlfriends.

"They don't call them that, Barbara," he could hear his Dad in the background. Yeah, you explain it to her, Dad. "They're 'domestic partners' or some damn thing."

Ray's coat slipped from paralyzed fingers to the floor.

What?

His Mom was going on again about something, but Ray wasn't listening. Suddenly he was seeing their dinner with a whole new set of eyes.

_Oh, such a polite young man_ , and Ray hadn't exactly understood why she'd seemed _relieved_ , but he hadn't really thought about it. They'd eyeballed Ben a bit at first, but he'd quickly been pretty much adopted, then stuffed to the gills. Dief, too. But ... the baby pictures—the baby pictures his Mom hadn't pulled out for anyone outside of family since she'd showed them to Stella when they were 14. And the way she'd pulled Ray aside briefly before they left. _Such a_ nice _man, and_ very _good-looking._ With an approving pat on his arm. And, oh man, his Dad had gruffly admitted he'd missed him, before, and never wanted to lose his son again. Was _this_ what that'd been all about? Ray felt a little wobbly.

Ray had just figured they were glad he had a friend, that he wasn't hanging around drunk outside Stella's window, yelling for her. (It was just the one time, really, since he unfortunately did _not_ have an alcoholic blackout, and the memory of making like Brando was embarrassing as hell.)

This, though ... The machine was making its end-of-the-message squeal, and Ray mashed blindly at the buttons until it stopped. This was seriously nuts. Ray tried to make sense of it, but his brain was caught in a tiny little loop going _my parents think me and Ben are boyfriends_ over and over.

Finally his detective instincts kicked him in the head and told him to _gather more information, stupid_. So he pushed replay on the machine, and waited while the tape rewound.

His Mom said "boyfriend" again and his Dad said "domestic partners" and Ray had to force his brain to pay attention and not freeze up on him.

"I have to admit, honey, we were both a little shocked when Stella told us." _That's_ what Stella had told them about his "new friend"? Was this some sort of weird new game of hers? His Mom had to have misunderstood. Had to have.

"I hope you'll understand that it's not a reflection on you that your father called Lieutenant Welsh to find out more about your young man." The Lieu? What the hell?

"Oh dear, Ben's probably standing right there next to you. Honestly, Ben, sweetheart, it wasn't about you either. We just didn't know you, and it was all quite a surprise, something we had to, well, adjust to. But now that we've met you, well, you really are quite a catch." Oh, jeez, thank God Ben wasn't here with him. Ray shuddered just thinking about the awkwardness if Ben heard what Ray's parents were saying about him. Them.

"Anyway, Stanley, honey, we just want you to be happy. And Lieutenant Welsh had nothing but nice things to say about Ben; he said he'd be proud to call him son. And Stella and the Lieutenant both mentioned how passionate Ben was about you. Stella said almost like your knight in shining armor." And Ray's brain couldn't help but shut down again, because this was a whole new level of weird.

He blindly jabbed at the buttons again until his Mom's voice cut off, then staggered into the bedroom where he fell back on the bed and lay there in shock.

"This can _not_ be happening!" he warned the ceiling. "This is some kind of a ..." He jerked up and looked around the room for the candid cameras. "This can _not_ be happening," he repeated, more quietly. Because, this was Ben, damn it, his best friend. And their whole "friendship" had just taken a trip into the Twilight Zone.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd wake up to find it was all a kielbasa-induced nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Ray played the message again and it was just as surreal as the night before. Well, first he drank coffee; then he played the message again. The last bit was his Mom going on about how all his folks wanted was somebody to care about him the way he deserved, and how sad she'd been when Stella hadn't been that person 'cause she still loved Stella, too, but she could see how much Ben cared and how happy they were ... and thank God she wrapped up the message there or Ray would have had another one of those brain freezes.

He mixed up another cup of coffee and went over the night before again.

Ben had been ... charming with his parents. Not all stiff and polite, the way he kept most people out, but more open. Kinda like he was with Ray, except without the Grade A Canadian stealth snark. Kinda like it was important they really like him. Huh.

Come to think of it, Ben had worn his best jeans and shirt—ones that didn't look like he'd done five years of wood chopping in them. And he'd been freshly shaved. And he'd brought flowers for his Mom. Or Dief had—flowers were always kind of a team effort with the wolf around.

It was looking like a "meet the parents" night.

On the bright side, at least it had gone better than when Ray had met Stella's parents.

But was Ben really, uh, passionate about him?

He had really jumped in and defended him when that lady at the reception started shouting what a pervert he was. Ray'd just figured that was buddies, or the Mountie being truthful or something. But maybe he'd been offended that she'd think his date would be groping a woman?

Damn. Ray'd been kind of thinking of asking her to dance until she went nuts. Ben had made a specific point of inviting him because there'd be dancing, and he thought Ray would enjoy the opportunity, and Ben appreciated the chance to do a little waltzing himself, and ... holy crap. Had Ben asked him on a date in Canadian and Ray just didn't realize it? It was probably a good thing that woman had gotten all pissed off at him, or he probably would have hurt Ben's feelings, taking off and dancing with someone else.

Since then, Ben had had him over to the Consulate, where he'd cooked him dinner. And he'd taken him to the Blackhawks' Wednesday night game.

And Ray had invited him to meet his parents.

Holy crap! He was dating Ben and he didn't even know it.

Ray had to get out ... had to .... had to get to the gym and work the punching bag until he could barely stand.

 

* * *

 

That night Ray started thinking again about his best friend accidentally turning into his boyfriend. What would happen if Ray said he wanted to be just friends? Was Ben already in love with him or something? Everybody else seemed to think it was pretty serious.

Ray was pretty serious about Ben, too, at least as far as friends. He was a nineties kinda guy; he could admit he loved Ben, even if he wasn't going to pop out with it during a hockey game or anything. But the thought of losing him? Ray felt the same cold emptiness in his gut he'd had when that perp had knocked Ben out. He _couldn't_ lose him.

He called the Consulate and begged off watching the Leafs game on TV, because loving the guy was one thing, but what if this was the night Ben decided to get to first base? The idea of Ben pulling the old arm-across-the-back-of-the-sofa move was actually kinda funny, except the part where if it happened for real Ray would freak out. He still needed to figure out what to do about this.

"It's nothing serious. I just don't feel too good tonight."

"Are you sure I can't bring you anything? I have a number of remedies that are quite efficacious—"

"Ben, no, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. I'm just going to go to bed early."

"Well, sleep is often the best medicine, Ray."

"That's what my Mom always said, too." God, his Mom would love hearing Ben all ready to hover over Ray while he was sick.

In fact, pretty much any way you could think of Ben would be—well, was—the perfect boyfriend. They liked a lot of the same things. Ben was funny, and got Ray's jokes, too. Ray felt good, happy, when Ben was around. Comfortable. They were both a little short-tempered and stubborn, but the thing was they both _got_ that. Whenever they got into it, the minute they cooled down they worked it out.

Which was all great. Everything good to go in a domestic partner-type person. Plus his parents and Stella and Welsh all thought the guy was a prince, aces. But they were also good things in a best friend, and there was one big difference.

It. Doing ... It.

And the one thing that kept running through Ray's brain was _try anything_ , which was freaking the hell out of him. That had been the motto for him and Stella in bed, and it had worked. It had worked like gangbusters; whatever other problems they'd had, their sex life wasn't one of them.

The thing with _try anything_ was that there was nothing that Ray'd tried that he hadn't liked. He was pretty much good to go with the whole entire sexual smorgasbord—except that every single thing he'd ever done, he'd done with Stella. He had no idea if it was just a chemistry thing with her, or if he had to be madly head over heels in love with the person, or if it would make a difference if he was with a guy, or ...

Ray liked being with Ben. And he could see being _with_ Ben as a partner-boyfriend thing. He'd always thought he was a one-woman man, but maybe he was a one-person person.

It was just that last step Ray wasn't sure about. He'd just assumed because of Stella ... if Ben was a girl maybe they'd be practically engaged by now. Hell, definitely if Ben was a girl they'd be practically engaged by now.

The queer thing didn't bother him, really—he'd done undercover and been A-OK with all the guys he'd met, and hadn't minded being taken for a gay while he was on assignment. He never gave a damn what other people thought about him as long as the people he cared about were cool, and, hey, they already were. The question was, was he _actually_ queer for Ben?

His thoughts kept him tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Ray was woken up at nine by someone knocking. He pulled on a pair of sweats and staggered to the door. Too bad if he was out of it from his late night and his hair was going in every which direction; anyone knocking this early on the weekend would have to take what they got.

"Oh, dear, Ray! You do look under the weather." Ben nudged his way past, carrying some bags. "I understand if you don't want company, but I wanted to bring you some freshly squeezed orange juice. You know, 31% of the vitamin content is lost in canned— well, anyway, this is fresh. And I've discovered that Tom Yum soup has a way of making me feel right as rain when I'm a little under the weather. Er," he looked at the items he'd unpacked on the table. "Perhaps you don't want to have the orange juice and soup together." He turned and laid the backs of his fingers against Ray's forehead. "You feel a little warm, but not too feverish. There's aspirin in the bag, if you need it, though."

"You brought me soup from Siam Palace?" Ray flinched inside. He sounded pitiful, like he was eight years old. But with his confusion and lack of sleep, he felt kinda vulnerable to Ben's bustling caretaking. Like he just wanted to lean into it and let Ben make him all better. Too bad that 1) he was a big fat liar and not really sick at all, and b) he needed Ben out of there so he could think about him without getting distracted by actual-him.

Except his mouth just opened up and said, "Come dancing with me," out of nowhere. But as soon as he was saying it, it felt _right_. He went with his instinct. "Come dancing with me."

"Ray, it's Sunday morning. And besides, you are in no condition to—"

"No, I mean like next weekend or something. We never got to dance at that Consulate party."

Yeah, it _was_ right. Ray's gut told him he was in the zone and Ben was beaming. "That sounds very enjoyable, Ray. And it's a good incentive for you to get better, besides."

"Yeah." A yawn interrupted him. "I think I'd better get back to bed."

"I'll be out of your hair in just a moment." Ben poured a glass of orange juice and handed it off to him, then put the jug and the soup away in the fridge. "Do you have everything you need?"

Ray couldn't help thinking that if they were a little further along in the dating, Ben would probably be tucking him into bed, as well, and that idea felt kinda ... nice.

Since they _weren't_ that far along, Ben just pressed the backs of his fingers against Ray's cheek, and left after telling him to take care and call if he needed anything at all.

Ray shook his head to clear it. Definitely vulnerable. He couldn't stop thinking that Thai food equaled love.

 

* * *

 

Dief bounced ahead of him to the florist's. Ray figured he could use some advice from Ben's roomie and Ben had let him borrow the mutt for the day, no questions asked.

Before they went into the shop, Ray pulled Dief's muzzle around and said, "Okay, so here's the thing. I want tonight to be romantic. Real special. Got it?" Dief gave a happy bark and Ray opened the door.

Dief ran straight in and headed directly for the red roses.

"Are you sure, buddy? It's not, you know, too much?"

Dief gave another little bark and reared up a little to sniff the roses.

"Okay, that's what I was thinking, too. I just wanted a second opinion." He went to the counter and ordered two boutonnières.

Ray leaned against the counter and the wolf ran around the shop sniffing everything while they waited. Suddenly Dief turned towards the door, excited, and yapped happily when Francesca walked in.

"Dief!" She gave him a friendly scratch around the ears, then looked up. "Ray," she said, slightly surprised.

"Hi, Francesca." He started to rub his eyebrow, and pulled his hand back down. He was even picking up Ben's habits.

"You know, you can call me Frannie. It's only Frase and Harding that call me Francesca. And Ma, when she's pissed."

"Yeah? Okay, Frannie. I can do that. So what are you doing here?"

"Fraser always said Dief thought this was the best florist in the city." Ray waited patiently. "Oh! One of the detectives is in the hospital, so I'm picking up a bouquet for him from the squadroom." Ray started to say he was sorry but Francesca—Frannie—cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It's not serious. Dewey's just not the sharpest bulb on the Christmas tree, you know?"

"Uh, you mean the brightest bulb?"

"Sharpest, brightest. Whatever. What're you and Dief up to?"

Just then the florist came out with two small clamshells. Ray pulled them off the counter to show Dief, who barked his approval, then showed them to Frannie.

"Oh," she said, a little faintly. "You and Frase have a big night planned?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling a little awkward. "Are you ... I mean, I kinda had the impression you ..." He didn't really know how to put it.

"No! Well, yes. I mean ..." Frannie stammered back. "I did have feelings for Frase, you know? I mean, who wouldn't—he's gorgeous. But he didn't have the same feelings back. It actually makes me feel a little better that maybe the reason he didn't like me like that was because," she made a weird twisty motion with her hand. Still, she sounded a little wistful when she said, "Besides, you guys are great together. He's different with you, real open and fun. Usually when I see him he's all stiff and proper."

Ray wanted to tell her that now she wasn't trying to jump his bones he'd probably relax around her, too, but he couldn't think of a nice way to put it.

"Anyway, I hope you guys have a real nice time tonight."

Yeah, me too, thought Ray nervously. It was their first date that he knew was a date.

 

* * *

 

Ben was grateful Ray had dropped Dief back at the Consulate. After Ray had said to wear something nice, Inspector Thatcher had confirmed for him that the club they were going to was very elegant. She had gone home earlier, though, and Ben was left looking at himself in the mirror, fiddling with his suit. He very rarely wore it, as most formal events he attended were in the line of duty, and the uniform served. In fact, most of the events he'd worn the suit for were in the line of duty as well.

"You're sure it's all right?" he asked Dief, who just rolled his eyes and flopped over. "Well I'm sorry if I'm a bit nervous. I don't often have the opportunity to indulge in such upscale recreation."

Dief grunted.

"What do you mean, that's not why I'm nervous? Of course that's why I'm nervous. I can't think of any other reason why I would possibly—"

Dief interrupted him with a snort.

"Stop thinking? I am a man, a rational creature. I think; that's what I do! _Cogito, ergo sum._ Not that I would expect you to understand."

Dief gave an annoyed yip and heaved himself off the floor to trot out the door.

Ben gaped after him. "'Go with your instincts?' What on Earth is he yapping on about?"

He felt anxiously at his tie knot and turned to the mirror again to make sure it was straight, only to startle at seeing his father behind him in the reflection. "Good lord, Dad! Do you think you could give me some warning?"

"Listen to the wolf, son. You've got good instincts, and they'll steer you better than logic tonight."

"Since when would you, of all people, argue against logic?"

"Thinking's only good for what's in your conscious mind, Benton. It won't get at what's in your unconscious."

Oh for heaven's— "I'm fully versed in basic psychological theory, thank you," Ben snapped. What did any of this have to do with getting dressed for dinner and dancing?

His father raised his eyebrows at him. "You asked for a warning. That's the best I can give you."

Ben gave up. Of course the two most infuriating beings in his life would gang up on him to be cryptic.

"Well, how do I look?"

"Very dashing, son. Very dashing."

His Dad looked proud and pleased, so Ben decided to quit fussing.

Ray's voice echoed down the hallway, "Knock, knock!"

His Dad disappeared as Ben abandoned the mirror to go out and greet Ray.

"Wow, you look real nice," Ray said quietly, and Ben felt unaccountably pleased.

"As do you, Ray," he replied. Which was the truth. Ray's suit was of a cut that gave it a slightly vintage look; formal, but with a bit of flair that reflected Ray's unique style.

"Here, I have ..." Ray showed him—ah, boutonnières. How thoughtful. Ray set one on the reception desk and opened the other. "I'll just, uh ..." He waved towards Ben's lapel.

"Please. Thank you, kindly, Ray." Ben caught his first good look at the flower, and he opened his mouth in surprise. But shut it immediately before the words could come tumbling out. _You know, in the language of flowers, red roses are an indicator of romantic love._ No, that wouldn't do at all—Ray was unversed in the kinds of minutiae Ben had filled his mind with over the years, and there was no point in possibly embarrassing him with that piece of trivia.

Instead, Ben held still while Ray moved in and concentrated on getting the flower pinned onto Ben's jacket without sticking him. This close, Ben could smell a light touch of aftershave, with faint traces of shaving cream and hair gel and soap underneath. He smiled to himself. He quite liked Ray's natural scent, and the sweat he'd work up when they played hockey or sparred. But it was nice to see this other side of Ray, and the care he'd put into preparing for their evening out.

Ray finished pinning the boutonnière, and smoothed his hands lightly over Ben's jacket before stepping back. "There you go." He looked slightly flushed. Perhaps the thermostat in the Consulate was too high? Inspector Thatcher had a tendency to nudge it up.

"Thank you, Ray; it's lovely. Here, allow me." And Ben took the other flower and stepped closer to Ray. He was focused on maneuvering the pin carefully, but ... did Ray sniff him? Well, turnabout was fair play. Ben wasn't an aftershave man, but he flattered himself that the pine balsam in the shaving cream he made left a pleasing scent.

Ray's flower looked to be securely fastened ... and Ben realized that he was lightly stroking Ray's jacket as he stepped back.

"Thanks, Ben," said Ray, softly. "Okay, grab your coat and let's go."

 

* * *

 

Ray on a formal night out was a revelation. Ben wondered again that Stella had let him go, though he realized this was probably the side of him she wished to see all the time. He couldn't imagine her being so enamored of the head-kicking, hockey-playing Ray. This Ray, though, who held open car doors, checked their coats, ordered a nice wine with their dinner—this Ray would certainly catch the eye of any woman in the room when they'd finished eating and were ready to dance. So far, though, Ray hadn't done more than glance at the floor and nod approvingly at the couples who were already out waltzing to the dinner music.

Once their waiter had cleared their plate away, Ray stood—and came around the table to Ben, his hand held out. He cleared his throat lightly. "May I have this dance?"

Ben gaped. "I don't ...." He glanced down. His hand had somehow already reached up and taken Ray's.

"It's okay," Ray assured him. "I know how to do all the backwards parts. I taught at dance camp when I was a teenager."

Before Ben could explain that who would follow wasn't what he was confused about, he remembered. _Go with your instincts._ Good lord, was _this_ what they had been talking about? His instincts seemed to be pushing him to his feet and onto the dance floor following Ray.

Ray easily pulled him into the standard dance position, but once Ben started moving, let him lead.

"Dance camp, really?"

And so they talked as they twirled slowly around the dance floor about Ray begging his parents for lessons because Stella was going, and Ben's grandmother partnering him around the cabin to their old Victrola, because it was a skill every boy should know.

When the band took a break, Ben had to say, "You're an excellent dancer, Ray." It was one thing to hear about it, quite another to experience the ease with which they moved together, like they were linked, body and mind.

"Yeah, you too." Ray seemed thoughtful. "I haven't ..." He shook his head. "The only person I ever danced with like _this_ is Stella," he admitted softly. "I danced with a lot of people, and with good dancers it's a lot of fun, but it's like doing the steps real well. But this is like ... like the music and you and me and the dancing ... it all makes something bigger, you know?"

Ben felt a small clutch in his chest at Ray's simple eloquence, and he found himself reaching to lay his hand on Ray's shoulder. "Yes, Ray. I understand exactly what you mean." The moment stretched, then he flushed and dropped his hand.

"So, when the band gets back from their break, they're going to play swing. You up for that?"

"Oh, certainly, Ray; that sounds very enjoyable."

"Okay, I gotta hit the men's room. You need to...?" He jerked his thumb and Ben shook his head no. "Okay, can you get us some waters?"

Ben welcomed the respite. Because instinct had gotten him so far, but his mind was desperate to catch up. Apparently he and Ray were on a date—a romantic, red-rose, dinner-and-dancing date. With each other. And by all evidence, his unconscious mind had no problem at all with it.

He quickly catalogued what he knew of his opinions about Ray: engaging, admirable, honorable, attractive—certainly attractive—entertaining, loyal, courageous, forgiving, humorous, intelligent, comfortable, stimulating ... There was nothing in their friendship that led Ben to doubt their suitability for each other—on the contrary, Ray would be an ideal companion and partner in any sense of the words. Assuming sexual compatibility.

Ben knew enough of both the natural world and human history to be aware that homosexual attractions were fully a part of the human experience. He was just a bit chagrined he'd never considered the possibility for himself. Despite being as widely read as he was, it was a bit galling to only realize at this age that he'd been blinkered by society's heteronormative assumptions. He'd assumed his love for Ray to be friendship, and never considered the potential for a more connubial happiness.

Ben had always welcomed Ray's little touches—and, dear God, how long had Ray been waiting for him to respond?—and he was greatly enjoying the full body experience of dancing with Ray. He determined he would give his full, open-minded participation to the rest of their date.

The band returned, and so did Ray, and they threw themselves into a rather exuberant and athletic dance set. Ray laughed out loud when Ben lifted him through a swing, and then Ben felt his own feet leave the ground as Ray spun him around. They matched their strength in the cooperation of dance, rather than the competition of sport, meeting challenge with trust, and Ben found it exhilarating.

They were heated and sweating and having the time of their lives. Ray crammed his tie into his jacket pocket and undid a few buttons on his shirt. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he reached over and did the same thing to Ben. Ben noticed a warming, a slight fullness, below his waist at the feel of Ray's hands undressing him, and felt an honest anticipation for more.

Just when Ben wasn't sure he'd be able to keep going, the band switched to a slow song, and all around them couples pulled together and started shuffling in small circles. Ray brought his body up against Ben's and put his arms around his neck. Ben's arms wrapped around Ray's waist, and he rested the side of his head against Ray's.

"This is my favorite part," said Ray.

"I find I'm rather fond of it myself," confessed Ben, and held Ray more closely.

The song finally ended, and the band left for another break.

"You want to to go for a drive?" asked Ray.

Ben looked around at the hot, crowded room. "Yes, I believe I would."

Ray retrieved their coats and sent the valet for the car, then escorted Ben into the passenger seat. Ben found it novel to be on the receiving end of a gentleman's attentions, but this was the date Ray had planned for him; when Ben planned a romantic evening, he supposed he could be the chivalrous one. There were certain aspects of two men being together that would take getting used to. In fact, he realized it would only be fair for him to learn to dance backwards as well.

As they traveled down South Lakeshore Drive, Ben offered a silent thanks once again to Daniel Burnham, who had planned parks running the length of Lake Michigan's shore, preventing the city from encroaching upon this welcome natural space. The vast stretch of water stretching away from them was as free of human crowding as the snow fields of home, and Ben often sought out the shore to turn his back to the city and regain a sense of balance.

As if reading Ben's thoughts, Ray pulled off the road into the park named for the planner, and nosed the car into a space overlooking the water. Ben felt a warm appreciation for the innate sensitivity poorly hidden beneath Ray's prickly exterior.

"Did you ... did you have a nice time?"

"Indeed I did, Ray. Beyond my imaginings." Which was absolutely the truth, although Ray didn't need to know how meager his imaginings had been at the start of the evening.

"Yeah?" Ray seemed pleased at the success of the date, but then his smile dimmed just a bit. "So in your imaginings, you weren't maybe hoping ..."

Oh dear. Ben's thickheadedness and lack of response to Ray's overtures before this evening must have created an expectation for disappointment, painfully visible in Ray's retreat. It took no heroics on Ben's part to rectify the situation; so far he had enjoyed the intimacy of every touch they'd shared. He took the leap. He unfastened his seat belt and turned towards Ray. "Are you referring, perhaps, to ..."

He lifted his hand to Ray's face. Ray leaned in and Ben leaned in and their lips met and ... Ben felt a thrill run the length of his body. His lips moved again to capture Ray's—a kiss and a kiss and another; and then he opened to let his tongue seek out ... Oh! There was Ray's tongue, greeting his, eager and demanding and trying to make up for a lifetime of separation.

Ray's body twisted towards him, and his hands slid inside Ben's coat to wrap around him. Ben cradled the side of Ray's head in his hand and _kissed_ , so grateful that their closeness translated to _this_ —this physical desire, this opening to each other.

Ben merged with Ray, and lost all sense of time.

When their kisses finally tapered away, he pulled back lightly to see Ray looking at him, his eyes luminous in the moonlight.

"Wow." Which was more eloquence than Ben was capable of at the moment. Ray then cleared his throat and went on, "I've never, uh ... I've never ... with a guy ..."

Ben was surprised by the depth of the relief he felt. "I haven't either," he confessed. He sat up in the seat and took Ray's hand between his.

"Oh. Good, then." Ray looked relieved as well. "It's, uh ... I like it so far. With you."

"As do I, Ray. I'm pleased that our compatibility extends to the physical level."

"So, are you okay with taking it a little slow? The physical part, I mean?"

"Oh! Certainly, Ray. I mean, seeing depictions of homosexual congress in classical art is one thing, but I think for personal experience I'm content to let our relationship advance a step at a time.

"Uh, I'm not sure what guys getting perverted in Washington has to do with it, but I'm with you on the last part." Ray gently reclaimed his hand and started the car.

The drive was comfortably quiet. Once he'd gotten back on the road, Ray had given his hand back to Ben to hold. They arrived at the Consulate far too soon, and Ben regretfully let go. Ray came around to his door, and they stood on the sidewalk together, foggy plumes of breath merging in the evening air.

"I had a wonderful evening tonight, Ray. Thank you."

"Me too, Ben." Ray leaned in to give him a kiss that turned into several before he pulled back. "You better get inside before I change my mind on the going slow thing."

Ben replied quite truthfully, "Believe me, I understand the temptation."

Ray's smile in response was radiant. "See you soon."

Ben reluctantly turned to go inside, and waited in the foyer until he heard the car pull away.

He headed for his room, grateful that Diefenbaker was asleep. He would undoubtedly be insufferably smug about the outcome of the date, although Ben would still thank him for his advice. He was man enough to admit when the wolf was right.

A warm glow of happiness still filled him from the events of the evening, mixed with grateful relief. The last time he had responded so viscerally to someone, obsession had caused him to override every value he held dear. There was a part of him that had been afraid that his desires would always draw him to the same kind of darkness. Thankfully he could be certain that the object of his affections this time was worthy, someone he'd be proud to call partner. Ray's innate integrity and sense of justice, though expressed through a more urban vernacular, matched his own.

Nevertheless, there was someone whom he had hurt the last time he was embroiled in a relationship, and he worried that the mere fact that he was involved in a same-sex partnership might be hurtful to the same friend. Eager to head off any misunderstandings or rifts, he picked up the phone.

 

* * *

 

Conditioned by years of cop instinct, Ray reached for the phone in his sleep.

"Hello? Ray?"

"Benny? You okay?" Ray squinted at the clock.

"Well yes, Ray. I'm fine. In fact I'm better than fine. I am ..." Ray heard him clear his throat. "In truth, I am deliriously happy. You see, I am romantically involved with Ray Kowalski."

"And you had to tell me this at three in the morning? Benny, it's been obvious for weeks." Ray tried to figure out what the big deal was. "Oh, wait. Did you say the 'L' word tonight? Is that what this is about?"

"The 'L' ... You mean 'love'? I, uh, no, not that."

"Benny, buddy, just 'cause he's a guy doesn't mean that you can skate on that stuff. Take it from an Italian, you gotta tell him. And then wait 'til a decent hour to tell me about it, okay?"

Ray hung up the phone and shook his head. Clueless. The Mountie was clueless in relationships. Actually, most guys were; he should write a book.

 

* * *

 

Ben showed up at Ray's door Monday night. He'd spent the last two days bouncing between blissful memories of Saturday night and being preoccupied with his friend's advice. Well, once he'd gotten over the shock that Diefenbaker, his father and Ray Vecchio had all known of his attraction before he had. Still, Ray's warning worried him. He had to admit that his usual emotional reserve was probably a detriment in a romantic relationship, and he didn't want to run the risk of losing Ray.

Ray's pleased surprise when he opened the door was an encouraging sign, and Ben followed him into the living room.

"Ray, I feel like I should tell you my feelings for you." Ben played with the brim of his hat.

"You love me," said Ray.

Oh dear. Now that it was out there, this was so much more difficult than it seemed. "I admire you greatly."

"You love me."

"I'm quite taken with you."

"You love me."

"I have great affection for you."

"You love me."

"I love you."

"I already knew." Ben looked at him in astonishment. "You brought me Thai soup."

Apparently, Ben really was the last to know.

"S'okay." Ray's lips twitched in a smile as tugged on Ben's shirt to pull him in for a kiss. "I love you, too."

And suddenly everything was too much. Ben squeezed Ray tightly to him, buried his face in Ray's neck and held on for dear life, while Ray stroked his back and said soothing things Ben wasn't capable of hearing.

When Ben recovered, he tried to pull away, mortified, but Ray held him close and stroked his hair. "I know, Ben. I get it. It sucks being alone." Ben stifled a snort. He'd been alone nearly his whole life—it "sucked" beyond telling. "And this? It feels almost too good to be true, doesn't it? But it is true. It is. I love you."

Ben relaxed into the embrace and brought his hand up to stroke Ray's hair. "And I, you, Ray."

"Okay. Okay, good." They stood there for a while, holding each other, and then Ray said, "Okay, here's what we're going to do." He pulled gently away, but took Ben's hand and held on tightly as he led them to the sofa. "We're going to curl up here and we're going to watch stupid TV." He sat against the side of the sofa and stretched his legs out in a vee, patting the space in between for Ben. Ben sat down and lay back gingerly onto Ray, relaxing into Ray's embrace when Ray brought his arms around. Ray clicked the remote, and they lay there entwined, neither bothering to watch the television.

 

* * *

 

By the time Ben flipped over and started kissing him, Ray was really noticing he'd had someone pressed up against his dick, and his dick had been liking the company. From the way Ben was doing full-body contact along with his kissing ... oh, yeah, there was Ben's dick looking for company, too.

The layers of jeans brought back memories of high school and making out under his or Stella's parents' roof. It was kind of a nice tease, but once Ray got his hands under Ben's sweater and undershirt he suddenly wanted a lot more skin. Ben was pressing against him harder and kissing him deeper, too, so Ray got his hands between them and went to work on buttons and zippers. Ben went even more wild once Ray got his hands down the back of his underwear, and—whoa— that was a hell of an ass he found under his hands. Ben shifted his balance onto one forearm and worked his other hand into Ray's jeans, and—God!—Ben's hand on his cock was _electric_.

Ray pumped upwards helplessly, but what he really wanted ... what he really wanted ... He pushed at Ben's jeans and boxers, shoving them down and out of his way, and pulled Ben's hips down to his. He scrambled with his other hand to move Ben's hand out of the way just enough to ... yeah. _Oh_ yeah, both their dicks together, and both their hands pulling and squeezing, and both of them making little gasps and needy noises. And, God, hearing Ben make needy noises—most of which sounded like "Ray"—was going to push him right over the brink. "Oh, God, _Ben_!" He came all the way from his _toes_. It had been _years_ since he'd gone off like that, and he lay there in stunned appreciation.

Ben gave a desperate little cry and stripped his hand, all slippery from Ray, even faster along his cock. Ray felt it pulse against his and add even more slick to his belly, while Ben fell forward with an "oh oh oh" onto Ray's shoulder. Ray brought his arms up to hold him.

After a minute, Ben rolled sideways on the couch and gave Ray a look that was pure joy, almost ... innocent. Ray tangled their legs together and pulled him close. He was almost afraid of how hard he'd fallen for this guy, but if he couldn't trust Ben, there was no one to trust in the world. Ben was like ... was like one of those animals that mated for life, an eagle or something. And for some reason he'd chosen Ray. Ray tightened his arms around him.

And, hell, if sex like this was what was getting added to the smorgasbord, Ray was _completely_ fine with the gay thing. He'd have to find out Ben's position on trying anything.

He dropped a kiss onto the top of Ben's head. They'd go clean up in a minute. Or five.

 

* * *

 

A few days later Ray was dropping Ben off after a little sparring at the gym when he remembered, "Hey, Ben, what do you think about getting together with Stella on Friday? She has two extra tickets to Mamma Mia! and offered them to us."

Ben went suddenly tense in the car seat.

"Stella?"

"Stella."

"You ex-wife, Stella?"

"Yeah, Stella. You met her, you said." Ben looked twitchy. "Look, she's probably not your favorite person, but we'd all be watching the show, not making a lotta conversation or anything." Ben was scratching his eyebrow like crazy. What the ... "You're not worried ...? I mean, Ben. I'm in love with _you_."

"No, no, Ray. I know. It's not that." Ben looked even more upset and Ray was getting pretty damned freaked out. "Oh, God. I feel terrible. I should have told you this long ago. Ray, I'm so sorry. I'll understand if you feel you can't trust me."

The hairs on the back of Ray's neck stood up. "What is it, Ben?" he asked, low and quiet, trying not to get scared. Yet.

"I may have misrepresented the circumstances under which I met your ex-wife." Ben looked like he wanted to jump out the car door and run, and it was only his duty to tell the truth that was keeping him there.

"You told me Lieutenant Welsh introduced you." Ray was pretty proud of how calmly that came out.

"Well, yes, that's true, in the limited sense." Ray just about managed to keep from twitching from nerves. Ben took a deep breath. "You remember me mentioning my good friend Ray. Ray Vecchio."

"You mean your ex-partner? Frannie's brother?"

"Yes. And that after he was shot, he left the police force?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't tell you that Ray bought a business afterwards. Casa di Amore."

"Casa di Amore, what's that? Sounds like some kind of a whorehouse."

"Oh, no, Ray, I assure you it's quite legitimate. It's a matchmaking business."

"Matchmaking?" Ben nodded at him. "Like, Fiddler on the Roof, _matchmaking_?" Ben nodded again. "A cop? Turned into a matchmaker?" Ben nodded a third time.

Huh. Ray popped a toothpick in his mouth and chewed. "Okay, so what's that have to do with Stella?"

"Well ... StellahiredRaytofindyouamatchsoyou'dleaveheralone."

Ray went into shock. He tossed the toothpick at the windshield and turned. "What?" he gritted out.

Ben swallowed visibly and repeated, "Stella hired Ray to find you a match so you'd leave her alone."

Ray's vision whited out.

"... Ray. Ray. Ray." Ben was shaking his shoulder.

Ray felt cold tendrils of ... He shook Ben's hand off his shoulder and tried to raise some defenses. "So, what, Ben? You been hanging out with me to keep me off of Stella's back?" He gripped the steering wheel, afraid to look.

"Oh, God, _no_ Ray!" Ben sounded so honestly horrified, Ray felt the fear draining away. "I enjoyed your company from the moment we met. I couldn't possibly have spent time with you if I didn't. I couldn't have fallen in love with you, and I have, Ray. I just ... I was never comfortable with keeping the truth from you, and I should have told you of the circumstances long ago. It was an unconscionable breach—"

Thank God. Thank God, he and Ben were okay. But there was still something he had to straighten out.

"Okay, Ben. Okay. Get out of the car." When Ray turned to look, Ben looked crushed. "I'm not angry at you. We're cool. But I am pissed off, and I need some time. Go take the wolf for a run or something, and I'll call you tonight."

Ben reluctantly left the car, and as Ray pulled away, he saw him in the mirror standing on the sidewalk, staring after him, forlorn and pale.

But Ray needed to get some air cleared, and now. By _I need some time_ he'd meant _I need to call 411 and get an address_.

 

* * *

 

Ray was irritated before, but when he saw Stella sitting there, through the windows of Casa di Amore ... He knew that dress. That was a _date_ dress. He stormed through the front door and slammed it.

Stella and the guy she was leaning over the desk towards dropped their sandwiches. "Woah, buddy, easy on the glass, there," the guy warned, half rising out of his seat.

"Cozy little lunch date, Stella." Ray's cooped up energy had him dancing his weight from foot to foot.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Ray, meet Ray Kowalski. Ray, Ray Vecchio."

Ray ignored the introduction. "You wanted me out of the way so bad, you went out and paid to have me fixed up with a queer Canadian? So you could go out with this ... this style pig? That's what you did?"

"Hey!" the other guy interrupted, but Ray didn't take his eyes off Stella. "The Canadian wasn't queer until you got ahold of him!"

Ray pointed at him without turning. "Shut up. This is between her and me."

Stella's voice went soft. "I wasn't _trying_ to fix you up with a queer Canadian—I was trying to fix you up with Rachel or Dolley or Abigail or Mary. Constable Fraser was a surprise. I just wanted you to be able to move on and find someone to be happy with, since it wasn't going to be me."

Yeah. Ray knew that. But, "That wasn't your call to make. Me moving on, I mean."

"I know. I'm sorry."

And damn it, she meant it. The apology was real, and he found he didn't have anything left to say.

"So, _are_ you happy?" Stella finally asked. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy, a really good guy. Well, you met him." Ray realized he was a little nervous. Things were over between him and Stella, and that was okay. But they'd been friends forever, too, and what she thought mattered.

She nodded. "He's good-looking, too, but a little stiff for me."

Ray couldn't help snickering. "I don't know, Stella, you always liked it when I was a little stiff for you."

Vecchio clapped his hands over his ears and wailed, "Ah, God, no! I don't wanna hear anything about that!" and Ray and Stella cracked up.

"How 'bout you, Stell? Are you happy?"

"Yeah, Ray. I am."

"Okay, good." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"You," he pointed at Vecchio. "You hurt her, and I'll kick your head right off your neck."

"You hurt Benny, and they'll never find your body."

Ray nodded and Vecchio nodded back. They were good.

Now Ray had to get back to the Consulate and make nice with his boyfriend.

 

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

For Ben and Ray's first anniversary, the Vecchios gave them an advance copy of _Libro di Amore: Love and Romance Italian Style_ , dedicated to them.

On their second anniversary, they both retired to open their bi-national consulting business—seminars on American police practices, Canadian police practices and suspect pursuit above the Arctic Circle.

Ray spent their third anniversary adding an indoor bathroom to Ben's cabin, a present for _both_ of them, he insisted.

On their ninth anniversary, Ben went down on one knee with a ring. Ray said, "What, are you kidding? Hell yes!"

It wasn't until their tenth anniversary that Ray admitted he hadn't known they were dating until after dinner at his parents. Which wasn't half as much a shock to Ben as Ben's admission was to Ray that he hadn't known until the dancing. But they agreed that it was bound to have happened sooner or later, because they were a perfect match.

 

For every anniversary, Ben served Tom Yum soup for dinner.


End file.
